Harry Potter and the Relics of Death
by Clarbri
Summary: An alternate Year 7 book, continuing from all canon up to and including Harry Potter and the HalfBlood Prince
1. Chapter 1  Privet Drive

Author's Note: I am not J.K. Rowling, nor am I affliated in any way with her or Scholastic. I do not own any of the characters here that have previously appeared in a book by J.K. Rowling, I'm just playing with them for a while.

Chapter 1- Privet Drive

It was blisteringly hot inside the walls of Number Four, Privet Drive. It was the hottest day on record in Little Whinging, and even inside the walls of Petunia Dursley's immaculate home seemed to have been transformed, thick as custard and difficult to breathe. Harry Potter lay motionless in his bed, sweat rolling off of him in tiny rivers. Although his window was open, there was not even the faintest breeze coming through it.

_If only it could have waited a few more hours,_ he thought. For today was the 30th of July, mere hours away from his seventeenth birthday, when he would come of age as a wizard. He let his mind wander for a moment, imagining a stream of ice-cold water streaming from his wand.

It was with a sudden wrench that he remembered the last time he had occasion to use the spell. He had used it to extinguish Hagrid's hut, and Dumbledore...

It had all been like a bad dream. The weeks that had passed since Dumbledore's funeral had, at times, convinced him that it was an illusion, that it could not have actually happened. Albus Dumbledore, the paramount wizard of his age, the rock-solid source of calm and protection that Harry had relied upon for six years...was dead.

_And dead in vain_, thought Harry. He gripped the locket, the fake Horcrux, tightly in his fist. He had taken to wearing it nearly all the time now, a grim reminder of what had happened, and a talisman for what he must do. The trouble was, Harry mused, that he was not at all sure how to go about it. _If only...if only there had been more time,_ he thought in frustration. He had very little idea of what the remaining Horcruxes were, and even less of an idea of how to find them. And as for what to do with them once he did...

Sighing in frustration, he peeled himself off of his bed, and once again began to comb his room for any possessions that he had forgotten to pack. He knew it was fruitless; he had searched his room top to bottom at least twice a day for the last week. It was cleaner that he had ever remembered it. Aunt Petunia would be pleased...that is, if she and Harry had spoken to each other, or indeed, seen each other since he had returned to Number 4.

He could still remember the day he returned. There must have been something etched on his face that warned the Dursleys that he was in no mood to put up with their usual treatment. Scared, and somehow smaller looking, they had left his completely alone since he had returned.

In past years, this might have been a bit of a treat for Harry. But in the light of all that had happened, it no longer mattered. His thoughts this summer had been almost entirely devoted to melancholy. If he wasn't thinking about Dumbledore, his mind wandered often to Ginny. Splitting up with her had been, without question, the hardest thing that he had ever had to do. He knew that she didn't care if she was in danger, but Harry couldn't allow yet another person to risk their life for him.

He thought bitterly of the blissful, sunlit days he had spent with her down at the lake. It seemed to have taken place years ago. How could he have ignored her for so long? There was so much time wasted pursing Cho, and now, there was no time left at all. He balled up his fists in frustration. He imagined that she would be moving on to someone else now. She was very popular, and not even the intimidation of Harry having been her boyfriend could keep the other boys away for long. Harry desperately wanted to hit something, to punish it for his own stupidity. At least, he thought, he'd be able to see her at the Burrow and talk to her for a while. He sighed, and leaned his head against his desk.

His eyes fell across the copy of the Daily Prophet he had left out. It was devoted, almost entirely,to the life and death of Albus Dumbledore. There was an interview with Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic, that was full of promises that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would soon be brought to justice. Harry snorted bitterly. The Ministry was no closer to catching Voldemort than a pair of Muggle police officers.

Rita Skeeter had written, as Harry had expected, a column that drew all sorts of implications from his own involvement during the battle at Hogwarts. She seemed particularly keen to point out that Harry had been on top of the tower with Dumbledore. She didn't come right out and _say_ that she thought Harry was responsible for Dumbledore's death, but Harry knew her well enough to read between the lines. With a thrill of savage pleasure, Harry glanced up at the picture of Rita Skeeter at the top of the column. He had drawn a large, curly handlebar mustache on the portrait, and somehow it had managed to stay stuck on her face, no matter how much she moved.

The evening wore on, as Harry idly checked and re-checked his trunk, and made sure that Hedwig was secure in her cage. He stroked her briefly, and she nipped at his finger affectionately. At precisely 12:01 AM, he was going to travel to the Burrow by side-along Apparition. Arthur Weasley was going to meet him outside on the lawn, and Harry would be free of the Dursleys forever.

When the clock showed 11:45, Harry's heart began to pound strongly in his chest. It was happening, it was really happening. After seventeen long, horrible years, he was going to be leaving. He had thought, no doubt due to a sudden case of heat stroke, of saying goodbye to his aunt, uncle and cousin...but the absurdity of _that_ thought had caused him to double up with laughter for nearly half an hour.

Ten minutes left. Five. Harry gathered his things, and began to move downstairs. He looked at his watch. Less than a minute left. In sixty seconds, he would be seeing Ron again, and he had never needed to see his best friend more in his life. He set down his trunk on the lawn, and waited. Four, three, two, one...

CRACK! Mr. Weasley appeared out of nowhere, his face shining with mirth. He extended his hand to Harry, who took it eagerly. They smiled at each other for moment.

"Happy Birthday, Harry. I expect you'll want to be going. You haven't got your test yet, so I'll have to take you side along. Ready to-" CRACK! CRACK! Harry looked around for the source of the noise. It was clearly someone Apparating, but the noise had sounded...muffled. As though it were coming...Harry's heart sank, from inside Number 4. Perhaps it was Fred and George, playing a prank. Two more loud cracks, and the alarm on Mr. Weasley's face, caused this thought to vanish in a rush of cold panic.

Harry mouthed "Wait here," to Mr. Weasley, and drew his wand. He crept quietly back into the house, not daring to even breathe heavily. Slowly, step by step, he made his way to the stairs. He heard low, irritated muttering.

"...quiet, Alecto, you'll alert him! Now, which..." The hoarse whisper trailed off. Harry's heart thundered in his chest. Low and indistinct thought it was, Harry could never mistake the that voice. Severus Snape, the man who had killed Albus Dumbledore, was now upstairs, seeking to do the same to him. A wave of fury crashed over him. He very nearly vaulted over the railing and attacked him. But that, Harry thought, would be foolish to the point of suicide.

Harry, moving slowly to the point of agony, put a single foot on the first stair. Suddenly, from up above, there was a crashing noise, as one of Aunt Petunia's vases of plastic flowers tumbled off of its table and shattered on the ground. The was a hiss, and then a long, loud silence.

"...the ruddy HELL is that boy playing at?" Uncle Vernon's furious voice came from behind his bedroom door. Harry's insides seemed to have vanished. Moving slightly quicker, covered by the sounds of Vernon clambering out of bed, he moved as far up the stairs as he dared. There were three others, besides Snape and Alecto. This puzzled Harry, as there had only been four cracks. One of them must not be able to Apparate. He could not tell who the others were, but a hideous stink, one of sweat and blood, stung Harry's nostrils. Fenrir Greyback was among them. A cold sweat broke out over Harry's face. Greyback was an infamous werewolf, who had a peculiar, and horrible, taste for children.

The door the master bedroom was flung open. "I'll give him a piece of my mi-" Vernon's shout broke off suddenly, as though someone had cast a Silencing jinx on him. For five long, silent seconds, nothing happened.

"Avada-"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted. The Death Eater's wand spun high in the air, and for a moment, nothing happened. The Death Eaters turned quickly to look at him, but did not seem to register his appearance. A full three seconds passed, and to Harry, they felt like hours. And then, the silence was broken.

"It's Potter!" shouted Snape, and raised his wand. Harry attempted a Stunning spell, but Snape casually flicked it aside. "You were never good enough..." Snape hissed, and his own Stunning spell shot so close to Harry that he was forced to throw himself down onto the stairs. He rolled, narrowly missing a red jet of light from another Death Eater. He scrambled to his feet and waved his wand. One of the Death Eaters began to rise into the air, but Snape blocked the spell a moment later.

Chaos reigned. Spells filled the air. Some of them came so close to Harry that they singed his clothes. And Snape was beginning to make his way to the stairs. Harry concentrated very hard on the incantation for Sectumsempra, and aimed his wand at Snape, but the spell was deflected with the casual air of one waving away a fly. Harry could imagine the cold sneer behind the mask, and Snape raised his wand. It was level with Harry's heart.

In desperation, Harry launched himself backwards over the railing, shouting "REDUCTO!". The stairs, and a good bit of the floor, exploded, showering the Death Eaters with splinters. There were roars of pain and muttered oaths, but Harry could barely hear them. He was already rolling, struggling to get some distance between himself and his enemies.

"Accio Firebolt!" he shouted as he fled toward the door. Dazzling jets of green light hit all around him, blasting large holes in the Dursleys' furniture. He could hear Snape shouting at them that Potter was to be taken alive, but they did not seem to be listening to him. Harry flung himself out of the door and reached for the broomstick that was hurtling toward him. He instantly spun himself onto it, flying past Arthur Weasley at startling speed.

"Harry, what on earth-"

"GET THEM OUT OF HERE, MR. WEASLEY! MY AUNT AND UNCLE AND COUSIN, THEY'RE UPSTAIRS!" Harry dove and twisted the broom into a tight hairpin turn and zoomed back into the house.

He had no plan. In the grip of terror, he merely reacted. But he knew, instinctively, that he needed raw speed at his disposal if he was to have a chance of escaping five Death Eaters. He was flying faster than he could ever remember. He noticed a lock of greasy, sallow hair from underneath a hood. Another killing curse sped past Harry, and Snape turned toward the person that cast the spell. A jet of red light burst from Snape's wand, and the Death Eater fell to the ground, limp. He turned back to face Harry, but Harry was already upon him. Rolling over on his broom, Harry felt his right foot make hard, sickening contact with the Snape's stomach. He fell like a rock, and so too did Harry. The impact had shaken him, affected his steering, and he was soon skidding along the floor, the carpet burning long strips on his back. He bounced and flew into the wall. His head snapped against it with a nauseating crunch, and Snape's mask tumbled from his face. Harry righted himself as a killing curse hit so close to him that he could feel his cloak move from the breeze.

Once again hitting top speed, Harry threw himself flat against the broomstick and blew out the back wall of the house. He was angling up, sharply, and suddenly, he felt a huge, heavy weight on the back of the Firebolt. A Death Eater, a strangely lumpy one, was hanging on to the back of his broom. Harry continued his ascent, dodging curses at point blank range. They were now nearly four hundred feet in the air, and Harry swung his elbow back just as he heard "Petrificus Totalus!" from behind him.

He could feel his muscles lock up. He was sliding backwards, propelled by his previous momentum, and collided with the person at his back. The shout of glee from behind him was cut off, instantly, and Harry saw a wand pirouetting through the air. And then, horribly, they both began to fall, the Death Eater losing their grip on the broom and plummeting much faster. Harry's leg, by sheer, blind luck, had ended up wrapped around the broomstick. It was completely rigid, but it was sufficient to cause his broom to plummet with him.

There was a loud, wet noise from below, and Harry's leg went limp. Scrambling frantically, Harry struggled to climb back onto the broom. He turned over and over again, and finally turned upright just as his left foot hit the pavement. There was a crack nearly as loud as those of the Death Eaters Apparating, and nauseating agony washed over him. He wavered for only a moment, and a voice cried "Incendio!"

A jet of fire missed Harry by inches, and a large shrub across the street burst into bright, dazzling flame. Harry shot a stunning spell back and sped toward his bedroom window. He yelled "Protego!" the instant before he hit the glass, and fragments of window sped past him without harm. He groped for Hedwig's cage, hoisted it up and unlocked it. "Hedwig! Go to Ron!" he hissed, and the owl flew out, shrieking in panic. He caught sight of Mr. Weasley, frantically struggling toward Dudley.

Dudley was at the end of the hall, throwing heavy punches at a huge Death Eater. Dudley scored three heavy jabs, and the Death Eater's mask was cracked. It was Amycus, the other lumpy looking person that was there when Dumbledore was killed. Dudley moved in for an uppercut, but a Stunning spell hit him directly in the belly. Owing perhaps to his bulk, though, it merely hurled him against the wall. Dudley crouched, holding his stomach and looking furious. Arthur was scrambling over wreckage and a black cloaked bodies. He looked back and spotted Harry.

"I've gotten your Aunt and Uncle to safe-"

"GET MY TRUNK, I'LL GET DUDLEY!" Harry soared past Mr. Weasley, and sent an Impediment Jinx at the Death Eater. It worked for only a moment, but it was enough. Harry soared down the hall, grabbed Dudley by the scruff of his neck, and heaved him onto the broomstick. He felt something snap in his arm, but it was strangely distant, as though it were happening to a stranger.

"Leggo 'me, I wanna settle it with that idiot!" Dudley roared petulantly, but Harry ignored him. A jet of red light flew directly under the broom, setting a few of the tail twigs alight. Harry wheeled quickly around and nearly lost Dudley. Snape was up again, and firing curses with horrifying rapidity. Harry turned and dodged, wave after wave of pain washing over him.

"Dudley, grab my arm!" Dudley seemed not to hear him, as Harry burst through the wall at the end of the hallway. Moments later, the entire side of the house was blown away. Fragments of white hot stone and glass ripped across Harry's face and back, and he heard a roar of pain from behind him. Looking back, he could see Dudley holding his arm. Blood was pouring out of a massive gash in it. And then he could see Snape's face, glowing sinisterly in the burning rubble. Fury was written across every line in the cruel face. Harry had to turn so rapidly to avoid a curse that Dudley slipped off the broom. Harry looped and sped of towards the falling body of his cousin. He stretched out his broken arm, and Dudley latched onto it. There was another snap, and Harry, Dudley and the broomstick fell, heading directly toward Snape.

A disgusting, triumphant smile broke across his face as he raised his wand. Harry had managed to seat Dudley back on the broom, and was grateful that Dudley was clutching onto it for dear life. Snape did not bother to cast the spell non-verbally. "Sectumsempra!"

Harry twisted, and felt the familiar, unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a tube. Just as he thought his lungs must burst, his feet touched the soft, long grass of the Burrow. He had done it. Lurching sideways, he could see Mrs. Weasley rushing over to him, looking terrified. There were distant screams, and several loud noises of surprise. And then he felt something peculiar, warm and wet on his back. He looked over his shoulder.

Dudley was standing there, his eyes and mouth wide open in shock, with his arms spread wide. Three long, deep gashes were carved into his chest and were spurting blood in long, crimson jets.


	2. Chapter 2 Strangers at the Burrow

Chapter 2- Strangers at the Burrow

Dudley lurched forward, and hit the ground with a wet thud. Molly Weasley screamed, and Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Ron...and Aunt Petunia rushed out after her. Mrs. Weasley was frantically tying to turn Dudley over, and Harry helped her despite the sickening pain coursing through him. She was muttering the same, song-like incantation that Snape had used to heal Malfoy the previous school year. The wounds slowly began to seal, the flow of blood gradually slowing to a trickle. It was a full ten-minutes before they had closed completely. Aunt Petunia's screams filled the otherwise completely silent night.

It was then that she noticed the stomach-turning angles of Harry's bones, and turned his wand on him. Before she had a chance to even wave it, though, Uncle Vernon's bellows joined his wife's screams.

"What the HELL have you done, boy?! Thought you'd get some of your wizard friends to rub us out for good, eh? How DARE you endanger my wife and child? HOW DARE YOU?!" Vernon dove at Harry, wrapping his large, meaty hands around his throat. The air was driven from Harry's lungs as he struggled to draw breath. He felt the same electric jolt from two years ago run through him, and Uncle Vernon's hands were once again repelled.

"Really!" shouted Mr. Weasley, pulling Vernon back from Harry with some difficulty. Harry could recognize the danger signs of one Uncle Vernon's famous rages, and he mused that finally, he had a good reason for one. Mrs. Weasley mended his broken bones, and Harry sank back onto the grass. He could hear Vernon raging at the Weasleys.

"...could have been killed! We've put up with him for seventeen years, and THIS is what he brings down on us for thanks. We should get a lawyer and sue the pants off of him!"

"And will you tell them the full truth?" said Mr. Weasley in a cold voice. "Will you tell them that you were attacked by wizards?" Uncle Vernon tore huge tuffs of hair out of his bushy mustache. He rounded again on Harry.

"I demand compensation! Our house is devastated, the neighbors surely saw your lot destroy our home, we'll have to move! You've got gold, I know it! That long haired fellow said so last year! You'll be paying us for the cost of our home, and for the salary I'll lose when I-"

"Leave him 'lone." All those assembled on the Weasley's front lawn turned, as one, to stare at Dudley. He was sitting up now, massaging his chest and looking down at the tatters of his shirt.

"What...what did you say, Dud?" Uncle Vernon looked shocked and worried, as though he was afraid the recent stress had snapped his son's mind. He looked quite mad himself, due to his bulging eyes and uneven, bleeding mustache.

"I said to leave him alone. Stop yelling at him." Dudley shook his head to clear away the fog, and sat up straighter. He was still absent-mindedly running his fingers up and down the holes in his shirt.

"Sweetums, what are you...?" Aunt Petunia trailed off.

"Stop working him over. It's not his fault that we were attacked. We're only alive right now 'cause of him, anyway," Dudley said, in a flat sort of voice.

"What kind of rubbish is this? What've you done to our son, to make him talk like-"

"I said STOP!" Dudley roared. "I saw him, on his broomstick. He could've just...just flown away, but he came back. Yelled for that man," he pointed at Mr. Weasley, "to come and get us. He didn't have to do that, could've just left. Should've done..." Dudley had progressed from the flat tone of voice to one thick with misery.

"Dudley..." Harry said in soft wonder. Dudley pulled himself to his feet and walked shakily over to Harry. He helped Harry to his feet and extended a hand.

"That's twice you've saved my life." Harry took the offered hand and shook it, hardly believing that this was happening. Frankly, although he would never admit it, he was of similar mind to Uncle Vernon. The shock of the events must have addled Dudley's brain. Dudley turned to face his parents. "Well?" he asked, in a tone suggesting he was ready to fight. The Dursleys simply stared at him in shock. "Apologize to him," he said through tightly gritted teeth.

The Dursleys stood, motionless, for a very long time. Finally, Uncle Vernon stepped hesitantly forward. What remained of his bushy mustache rippled with irritation. Finally, he managed to extend his hand.

"I suppose...I'm...we're...sorry," he mumbled. Harry took the hand in astonishment. Uncle Vernon had never apologized to him for anything before. Vernon's hand was limp in Harry's, and he, Harry, finally let it fall. He turned to stare at Aunt Petunia. Her long neck was mottled with what was either fury...or embarrassment.

"Yes," she said quickly. "I suppose we should...thank you. Even though our house is...we're alive." She gave him a long, piercing look and flushed even further.

"You're...thank you," Harry said dully. He looked from Petunia, to Vernon to Dudley, and barely held back a grin. Dudley waddled over to Harry again, and looked down at the ground.

"Look...I'm sorry for...y'know, the way I've treated you. I don't understand how you could've...saved us like that, with how we treated you. But thanks for doing it." Harry looked at Dudley with quiet wonder. Then something occurred to him.

"Dudley, does this have something to do with what you saw when the Dementors came?"

"Y-yeah...yeah it does. I don't really want...want to talk about it right now." Dudley flushed and craned his neck down further.

"Well," said Mr. Weasley, slightly breathlessly. "I shouldn't have to tell you all that this is quite a delicate situation. The Muggles in the neighborhood have surely noticed that the house has been destroyed, and if I'm not much mistaken-"

A great, silver lynx bounded across the lawn and sat down on its haunches next to Mr. Weasley. To Harry's astonishment, it began to speak in Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep, reassuring voice.

"Arthur, the Obliviators are already on the case. We've had to call in all of them. You are to keep the Dursleys at your house until further notice."

"Wh-WHAT?!" shouted Uncle Vernon. "Now see here, we're not going to-"

"Come now, Mr. Dursley, surely you can see that Kingsley is right. This is a very tricky-"

"TRICKY BE DAMNED!" roared Vernon. "I demand to be taken back to my home this instant!"

"You haven't got a home anymore," said Harry quietly. Aunt Petunia's face went very pale, and she swayed on the spot. She looked quite in danger of fainting.

"What's this?" croaked Vernon.

"The walls have been blown out. Most of them, anyway. And I think there may have been a fire, I can't remember."

"I...then-" spluttered Vernon. "Then you're lot will have to repair it, then, won't you?"

"I don't think so, Uncle Vernon. I think you'll probably...probably have to be moved." Vernon was turning a dangerous purple color again, and Harry braced himself for the explosion.

"What. Do. You. Mean. By. This. Boy?" he spat out from tightly gritted teeth.

"You'll be in danger. The Death Eaters found out where I was staying, I don't know how. They'll probably try to get to me through you."

"Too true," said Mrs. Weasley softly. "Yes, it's absolutely out of the question, you returning. It would be too dangerous."

There was a sudden crack, and Rufus Scrimgeour appeared out of thin air. He looked much older than the last time Harry had seen him, even though it had only been a few weeks. His yellow eyes were clouded with exhaustion, and there were deep lines in his face.

"Right, then," he rumbled. "You must be the Dursleys," he said, nodding to Vernon and Petunia. "This is the situation. We have, through great difficulty, modified the memories of all Muggles in the town of Little Whinging. They believe you dead, and the skeletons conjured by Rowane should convince any...authorities."

"Dead? What do you mean, 'dead?'" asked Uncle Vernon.

"I mean, you are no longer alive in the Muggle world. It was the only explanation, given the state of the home. Now, then, we will be procuring lodging for you in Hogsmeade. The wizarding village," he added, seeing the Dursleys' blank faces.

"Now see here, we will not be living amongst you...you...freaks!" shrieked Aunt Petunia.

"I'm quite afraid you will, Mrs. Dursley," said the Prime Minister, with almost as much disgust on his face as on Aunt Petunia's. "It will be among the safest places for you. Where we can keep an eye on you. Now, until we can find a suitable place, I'm sure the Weasleys will allow you to stay here." Mrs. Weasley nodded vigorously. "Well, that's settled then. You will be notified when a place is found." And, with a final, weary look back at Harry, he Dissapparated.

Mrs. Weasley led them all into the kitchen and put on some tea. "Now, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, we insist that you take our room, Arthur and I. We'll be sleeping on the sofas. Dudley, you'll can have P-Percy's old room." She turned to look at Harry. "Harry, dear, I hope you don't mind sleeping on the camp bed again. We're going to run out of beds at this rate."

Harry didn't mind in the slightest. He had slept on Ron's camp bed so often that it was almost his own. The Dursleys, it seemed, were much less pleased with their arrangements. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley's bed was much smaller than their own huge bed at home, and Vernon grumbled under his breath when he saw it.

Dudley, oddly, was more than pleased with his temporary room. He seemed completely enthralled by the moving pictures of Percy and Penelope Clearwater that were left in the room. He had, admittedly, some trouble in squeezing his bulk into the bed, but he did not seem to mind. Harry was astonished at the change that seemed to have come over Dudley. Rather than the surly, angry demeanor he was expecting, owing to a lack of television, Dudley was quiet and subdued. He looked frequently with wonder at the magic that filled the Weasley home.

The next few days were trying for Vernon and Petunia. No matter how often it happened (and that was pretty often in the Burrow), they jumped with fright at every trace of magic that was performed in front of them. The day after the Dursleys had come to stay at the Burrow, Vernon was chased by garden gnomes for quite a long time. After Harry and Ron gathered up all the gnomes and flung them out of the garden, he swore at Mr. Weasley for a solid half hour. Mr. Weasley, as was his nature, took the abuse serenely.

It was, perhaps, Mr. Weasley's fascination with Muggles that was the most trying for the Dursleys. When Vernon let it slip that his company had made drills, Arthur had badgered him endlessly for details about them.

On the second day, Harry walked into the kitchen and was shocked to find Mr. Weasley and Dudley in what appeared to be quite an animated conversation.

"And how do they shrink them down, then, without magic?" he asked. Dudley chuckled, much merrier than Harry had ever heard in a situation that did not involve his own suffering.

"No, no, they're not actually INSIDE the television. They're just...well, y'know those pictures in...Percy, was it?" Mr. Weasley nodded. "The pictures in Percy's room, how they keep moving? Well, it's an awful lot like that, only the pictures are put on the television by satellites."

It took a further hour for Dudley to explain what satellites were, what they did, and how the Muggles got them up there in the first place. Harry took the time to make himself some toast and scrambled eggs, and ate them while listening to the conversation.

"It must be a very long plug then, for it to reach all the way. It's a wonder we don't see them all."

Ron came down then, tousle haired and still in pajamas, and sat down next to Harry. He listened to Dudley explaining microwaves for a moment, and looked at Harry in astonishment.

"Oi, what's happened to your cousin? How come he's not such a git?" he whispered.

"Dunno," said Harry, "but I'm not going to argue with it."

Ginny came down next, fully dressed. Harry guessed that she wasn't quite comfortable with Dudley seeing her in _her_ pajamas. She cast Harry a shy glance, and busied herself with fixing toast.

"How're the Cannon's doing, Ron?" The Chudley Cannons were Ron's favorite Quidditch team, and Harry was hungry for news about his favorite sport in the world.

"Dreadful. Went down 345-20 to the Wasps just last week. Honestly, I don't think any of the players on the team have even _heard_ of Quidditch before," he moaned in despair.

"What's...Kwi-dich?" asked Dudley. Harry and Ron exchanged a long look. They both seemed to understand that it would take much to long to explain to Dudley, and that words weren't really sufficient in describing it.

"Mr. Weasley," began Harry. "Do you think it would be alright if we...if we _showed_ Dudley what Quidditch is?" Mr. Weasley frowned, considering it.

"Well, I don't suppose it would hurt, seeing as how Dudley has been surrounded by magic for days now. Just be sure that none of the Muggles in the village see you."

"Ginny, would you like to come?" asked Harry. She blushed, and mumbled something about an essay for Professor Binns before leaving the room. Harry sighed, and went upstairs for his broomstick.

They led Dudley to the field where they often practiced Quidditch. They obviously couldn't use real bludgers or a snitch, but they made due with substitutes. Dudley stared up at them from the ground, his mouth wide open in wonder. Once they had landed, he looked at Harry's broom with open longing.

"Can...can I try?" he asked, very softly. Harry and Ron exchanged another long, meaningful look. Harry's Firebolt was out of the question; for someone who had never flown, it would be much to fast. Ron sighed, and nodded.

"Here you go, Dudley, use mine," he said, resignedly. "Just be careful, alright? I've only had it for a couple of years. Oh, and try not to break any of your bones, either. My mum would skin me alive if she had to heal you up again."

Harry stood next to Dudley, and showed him how to mount it and how to kick off. As Dudley rose, slowly and feebly, into the air, Harry kicked off and joined him. Dudley looked absolutely terrified, but there was something else on his face as well. _Joy._ Harry had never seen, as far as he could remember, actual joy on Dudley's face. He showed amusement at Harry's misfortunes, and occasionally laughed at his friend's jokes or at a funny television show, but Harry had never seen him so absolutely...happy before.

Dudley rose a little higher, and, seeming to become a little braver, sped up and brushed some tree limbs. He rose higher and higher, and swooped down into a dive. He wobbled slightly, and fell ungracefully off of the broom. Thankfully, he was not far from the ground, and merely laughed.

"Thanks, Ron. That was..." he trailed off, lost in thought. Ron simply stared at him, mouth agape slightly. As they walked back to the Burrow, Dudley was completely silent, the ghost of a smile still on his face.

They were interrupted by a pair of brown owls, who swooped down upon Harry and Ron, and dropped a pair of envelopes on their heads. They tore open the paper, and read the notices.

Notice: To all Wizards of Age

The Ministry of Magic will be administering Apparition Tests on the 5th of August, at Diagon Alley. If you wish to attend, please send word by return owl.

Thank you,

Wilkie Twycross, Ministry Apparition Instructor

Ron groaned. He had just barely failed his previous Apparition test, and Harry guessed that he wasn't eager to repeat the performance. He clapped Ron on the shoulder.

"You'll do fine, mate. It was only half an eyebrow last time." Ron grunted sourly, and nodded. They attached their replies to Hedwig and Pigwidgeon, and sat down at the table for lunch.

Mr. Weasley insisted on giving them tips in the days leading up to the exams, which did nothing to improve Ron's nerves. Harry and Ron went over the review materials that had been sent with Hedwig and Pig, and woke early on the morning of the Fifth.

They were to be traveling by Floo powder to Diagon Alley. It was among Harry's least favorite ways to travel, although it was not perhaps so unpleasant as the Knight Bus. They both grabbed a handful of powder, threw it into the fire, and shouted "Diagon Alley!"

Once the spinning stopped, they made their way out onto the winding streets of Diagon Alley. It was even less crowded than it was the previous year. It was beginning to look more and more like a ghost town, although the vendors at the carts along the sidewalks shouted even louder and heartier. They were still offering the usual variety of supposed dark arts protections. Harry and Ron passed them without so much as a second glance.

There was a large crowd by a marquee in the middle of the street, and the signs around it confirmed it to be the location of the exams. Little Wilkie Twycross, along with several other wizards, were standing on a small stage.

Harry could see all of the student who were not of age for the previous Apparition tests. All of them...except Draco Malfoy. He expected that Draco was still on the run, hiding with his fellow Death Eaters. Suppressing a surge of fury, he looked around for someone to talk to.

Neville was standing, trembling slightly,next to Ernie MacMillan. "Hi, Neville!" he said, waving. Neville gave him a small wave and a half-smile, and then went back to his trembling. Ernie, on the other hand, strode up to Harry.

"Harry, good to see you!" he said in his pompous voice, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Think you'll pass? Well, of course you will, you've done it before! I've been going over the review materials since I got them, haven't slept at all, hardly!" He gave a hearty laugh.

Twycross tapped his wand on the podium, and the crowd fell silent. "We will do this in Alphabetical Order. Right then, Aaron, Prias, come up then." A Ravenclaw boy that Harry had never met stepped up, and Apparated across the stage flawlessly. Twycross clapped and shouted "Yes, excellent!"

When it was Neville's turn, he tripped up the stairs to the stage, now shaking violently. Although he was not the first case of splinching that afternoon, his was the worst. His left leg above the knee and his entire right arm had stayed behind. The wizards and witches accompanying Twycross swarmed around him, and soon he was back together again.

"There we are, Neville, lad. Practice a bit more, and you'll get it next time. Remember, Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"

Ernie passed as well, although it was only due to the fact that the Wizards hadn't noticed that he'd left behind one of his toenails. He snatched it up, surreptitiously, and went off to find a healer.

Harry was next. He stepped up to the stage, concentrated hard, and turned on the spot. After a brief feeling of being squeezed, he arrived at his destination, completely intact. The wizards clapped, handed him his license, and guided him down the stairs. He looked at Ron, who now looked positively green, whether with envy or nerves, however, Harry wasn't sure.

But it turned out to be for nothing. Although he nearly fell upon landing, Ron was missing nothing at all from the trip, and very soon joined Harry, beaming and clutching his license.

"What do you want to do now, eh?" he asked Harry.

"How about we visit Fred and George?" Ron smiled at him, and soon they were heading off to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. The building had been painted, evidently. It was now a violent, almost glowing shade of orange, and painted on the side was...Harry gasped, a dark mark.

But as he and Ron ran to the stop, stunned and horrified...the skull began to gag on the serpent protruding from its mouth. It vomited up the snake, and then winked at Harry and Ron. Glittering blue words appeared next to it.

"Puking Pastiles, now 45 off!"

"Brilliant!" chorused Ron and Harry, and they stepped inside. The joke shop seemed to be the only place in Diagon Alley still doing roaring trade. Harry was stunned to see that the shop was not filled with, as he expected, children and students, but adults. Ludo Bagman was roaring with laughter at a new trick wand. It had just turned itself into an absurd caricature of Bagman himself, with a pronounced and exaggerated belly.

"Wonderful, boys, simply wonderful!" He laid down a handful of galleons, and turned to look at Harry. "Ah, Harry Potter, how _are_ you doing my lad?" He extended his hand, which Harry shook. Before he could stop himself, a question burst forth from his lips.

"Mr. Bagman, I thought you were...well, on the run from the goblins?" Bagman frowned momentarily, then beamed again.

"Oh, that. Well, I was able to fall back on some...acquaintances and family. Cleared up without a problem. Had to get a new job, of course, but I like this one much more. Official commentator for the British Quidditch League, now!" he said good-naturedly. "Did you hear about the Cannons? Dreadful business, don't know why they bother to play at all, really. Well, I must be off, then. Nice to see you again, Harry!" Bagman strode from the shop, still chuckling over the wand.

"Ah, Harry! Our-"

"Benefactor!" said Fred and George, shaking his hand and smiling at them. "Come to stock up on snackboxes for the wedding, then? Don't blame you at all!"

Harry stared up at them, confused. "Wedding?" Fred and George looked at each other.

"Y'know, Fred, I reckon all of the danger he's been in has softened his brains."

"Yes, it seems that way, doesn't it George? It's only been a month, Harry. Surely the damage hasn't become _that _severe!" When Harry only blinked at them, they said "Bill and Fleur!"

In all the excitement, Harry had completely forgotten. Ron was busy filling the twins in on everything that had happened.

"Weird," said George. "I thought he was a humongous git, though."

Harry was examining a variety of new sweets. It seemed that the twins had expanded their Skiving Snackbox line. There were now "Gassing Gumdrops", "Phlegm Pops", and "Balding Bars".

"Had to expand, Harry," said Fred.

"Yeah, it was a bit suspicious that people kept coming down with the same illnesses over and over again. I wouldn't try the Gumdrops around anyone you care about, though."

Harry hadn't brought any money, so he didn't purchase anything. That didn't stop the twins from loading him down with new snackboxes, darkness powder and some Muggle magic tricks, for their dad.

"Come and see us again soon, Harry. Oh, you too, I suppose, Ron," shouted Fred as they left.

"See you at the wedding," Harry shouted back. He turned to Ron. "They're doing very well, aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are. Don't tell my mum and dad, but they've been putting money in mum and dad's vault. Bill's been helping them." Harry smiled at Ron, as they headed back towards the fireplace.

"Wait a minute," said Harry, hitting his forehead with his palm. "Ron, we can just Apparate back." Ron gave him a foolish grin, and they both turned on the spot, and Apparated to the Burrow. When they got there, the Dursleys were gone.

"Fudge came just an hour or so ago to pick them up. They took the Knight Bus. Cornelius seemed to think that it would be the least unpleasant mode of travel for them," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry laughed. Of all the modes of magical travel, the Knight Bus was perhaps the most trying. He didn't envy Fudge for the shouting match that was likely to occur between he and Uncle Vernon.

For the next several days, the Burrow was alive with activity. Mrs. Weasley was in a frenzy, preparing for the wedding. Although it was being held on Stoatshead Hill, Mrs. Weasley was scrubbing the Burrow from top to bottom.

Harry and Ron were volunteered, as well. They had been charged with weeding the garden, scrubbing the upstairs floors, and, hardest of all, cleaning up Ron's room. They were five hours into this last task when the door flew open. Harry found himself engulfed by a mass of bushy brown hair.

"Hermione!" he shouted in a strangled voice. She was making it rather difficult to breathe.

"Oh, Harry, I'd heard what had happened, and I was so worried!"

"I'm fine, Hermione, honestly. If you want to worry about anyone, worry about the people living in Hogsmeade." At Hermione's confused look, Harry explained the situation with the Dursleys.

"Oh, my. I don't imagine they took very well to that," she said.

"My Aunt and Uncle didn't. Dudley seemed...sort of excited, though. He's changed an awful lot."

Hermione sat down and helped them tidy up. She explained that she had been doing research on Horcruxes and dark magic.

"I've spent an awful lot of time at Samiel and Smith's, looking for books on them."

"Samiel and Smith's?" said Harry and Ron at the same time. "What's that?"

"It's a bookshop dedicated to the Dark Arts in Knockturn Alley," she said quickly.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted in a strangled voice. "You've been going down Knockturn Alley alone? Are you mental?"

"Well, someone had to do it, and I didn't think you'd be pleased to. But if _you'd_ like to switch places with me, Ron..."

"Well? Have you found anything?" asked Harry urgently. Hermione sighed.

"Nothing yet. I've found a few more mentions of Horcruxes, but nothing on how to recognize or destroy them. I did find out how to _make_ one, the exact steps, but I really don't think we need to know that," she said.

"Well, keep it in mind," said Harry. "It might come in useful somehow."

Any further opportunities for discussion were cut off in the flurry of activity in the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley strode across the house, examining every surface. Most of Ron and Harry's jobs had to be redone before they passed her examination.

"Mum," said Ron in exasperation. "We don't have to _eat_ off of the floors!"

"I want them sparkling clean!" she snapped. "The Delacours are arriving tomorrow!"


	3. Chapter 3 Dreams and Flowers

Author's note: I'm not as pleased with this chapter as I was with the other two. I cleaned it up as best I could, but it still feels a little muddled to me.  


Chapter 3 – Dreams and Flowers

"How is it that Potter has escaped again?" Harry said in a high, cold voice. A man with greasy black hair and a long, hooked nose knelt before him. A woman with heavily-lidded eyes stood close by. The kneeling man looked up slightly, and rasped a few times.

"My Lord, there were too many sent. They hindered my efforts. I had to ensure that they did not kill Potter, as you had requested him alive." The woman laughed mirthlessly.

"My Lord, I have always advised you of the unreliability of Snape. If you had only sent me-"

"Silence, Bella," said Harry, softly. He drummed his white, long-fingered hands softly on his chair. "It may be as you have said, Severus. Some of my followers are indeed...over-zealous," he spoke in a contemplative voice. "Very well. Bellatrix, you will accompany Snape when next we strike. It must be...soon. He will soon be back at Hogwarts, where we cannot strike him. Of course, if you had not revealed yourself so foolishly, Severus..." Harry trailed off dangerously. Snape winced.

"My Lord, I had no choice! The Malfoy boy would have been-"

"I have no particular concern for the Malfoy boy. Or his family. But no matter. Your plan, Snape. Are you certain that it will succeed?"

"My Lord, I am sure of it. He is a member-"

"Very well. Know that you will feel my...displeasure if it fails. Based on your recent blunders, I will not be surprised if I must discipline you again. If this plan fails, it will fall to you and Bella to bring me Potter. I will not tolerate a third failure, Snape." The man trembled, and nodded. "Then let us talk no more of this. Ah, Nagini..." A huge snake coiled itself around Harry's shoulder, and he stroked it idly with his spider-like hands. The woman was staring at Harry with adoration in her eyes, and made an involuntary move forward. She looked as though she wished desperately that she were the snake, being stroked lovingly by Harry's hands. Harry looked deep into the serpent's eyes...and awoke with a start.

His scar was burning with pain. He was covered in cold sweat, and his sheets were nearly soaked through. Pale light was flooding through the window of Ron's room. The clock in the room read 5:30 in the morning. Wincing at the hour, and from the pain in his scar, Harry threw back his sheets and headed to the bathroom.

He looked hard at his reflection. As was common after such dreams, his scar seemed more pronounced somehow. He splashed cold water over his face, and sighed. He bathed quickly and quietly, dressed, and crept downstairs. There was no sense in depriving Ron of sleep as well, although he tossed and turned restlessly.

Mrs. Weasley was already awake, and was humming softly to herself as she began preparing breakfast. Eggs began stirring themselves, and bacon rashers were already flying into a hot pan. She turned as Harry stepped down into the kitchen.

"Oh, good morning, Harry dear. You're up awfully early, I didn't expect anyone up for another hour."

"Couldn't get back to sleep," he said. This was not, strictly speaking, a lie. He had never had much success in getting back to sleep after these dreams.

"Well, sit down, dear. Are you hungry?" Harry nodded, and Mrs. Weasley laid down buttered toast and some already cooked bacon in front of him. "It will be a little while for the rest, if you're still hungry. Oh, I do hope the mess from breakfast isn't too much, the Delacours will be here shortly, you know. Don't know where we'll put them, we're filled to bursting already, and then with Fred and George and Bill and Charlie..." she fretted as she cooked.

Harry ate in silence, occasionally rubbing at his scar. What was Snape planning? It had involved capturing Harry, but how? How could Snape be so certain that it would work? Perhaps he was bluffing, so that Voldemort would not fly into a rage. Light streamed into the window, brighter and brighter, as Harry ate.

He was deeply troubled. He had not had such a dream for quite a while. He was certain that the connection between Voldemort and himself had been closed. And why now? The attack had occurred a week ago. Had Snape been hiding? Or had Voldemort been busy elsewhere? And with what?

Harry's thoughts went in circles. There were no answers to be found. His concern must have shown on his face, because Mrs. Weasly was crouching next to him.

"Harry? Are you feeling okay?" Harry snapped up from his reverie.

"What? Oh, oh yeah, Mrs. Weasley, just tired still, I guess." Mrs. Weasley frowned at him, and felt his forehead with the back of her hand. "Really, Mrs. Weasley, I'm fine." She looked unconvinced, but turned back to breakfast. Hermione stepped into the kitchen, her bushy hair flying everywhere.

"Good morning, Harry," she yawned. "Morning, Mrs. Weasley." She poured herself a cup of tea, and sat down next to Harry. "Oh, I slept dreadfully last night. I kept imagining that it was _my_ wedding. Isn't that silly?" Mrs. Weasley smiled at her. Harry thought he caught a bit of understanding in that smile, but couldn't explain it. Hermione flashed a quick look at Harry, and he was suddenly struck with the impression that Hermione was not being truthful about why she hadn't slept well. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione shook her head quickly.

Ron appeared shortly after, yawning and rubbing his eyes. They were puffy and red, as though he also hadn't gotten much sleep. "I think the ghoul got bored last night, kept me awake for ages. Did you hear him Harry?" Ron looked directly into Harry's eyes, and Harry understood.

"Oh, yeah, I could hear him banging around all night. Kept waking me up too." Harry was very puzzled. Had they all had bad dreams last night? It was very peculiar, Harry had never known Hermione or Ron to have dreams that kept them from sleeping well. He nodded his head toward the living room, and they all moved wordlessly into it and sat on a couch. They were silent for a very long time. Finally, Ron spoke.

"Snape's planning something," he said in a flat, quiet voice.

"How did you-" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"I saw it too, Harry. I could see V-Voldemort, and Snape was kneeling in front of him. It was-"

"Hang on!" said Ron. "I could only see Bellatrix LeStrange and You-Know-Who. I was kneeling in front of-"

"What did _you_ see, Harry?" Hermione asked quickly. Harry was silent for a moment.

"Snape and LeStrange," he said, as though from a great distance away. His head was spinning. How was this even possible?

"Harry, this is very serious. If the connection is back, you have to practice-"

"I was the snake. Nagini," a voice said softly from over their shoulders. They jumped and turned around as one. Ginny was standing in her pajamas, stifling a yawn. Her fiery red hair was a tangled mess, and it stuck out like a mane.

"Ginny?" Harry said softly. "You too?" She nodded soberly, but before she could say another word, Mrs. Weasley was bustling into the living room.

"You three," she pointed at Ron, Hermione and Ginny, "wash up and get dressed. The Delacours will be here in half an hour. Quickly, quickly!" She waved them off impatiently, and fell into an absolute frenzy of last minute dusting. She muttered endlessly to herself about the state of the home. She shrieked with rage when she found a small spider, and squished it with such malice that Harry jumped. "Sorry, dear. I thought I had got them all, you see."

Ron, Hermione and Ginny re-appeared twenty minutes later. They still looked very tired, and worried. That sat down on the couch wordlessly, and waited. Mrs. Weasley adjusted her robes, and paced about, nervously. Suddenly, there was a rush of green flame from the fireplace. Fleur emerged, looking radiant and beautiful, from the flames. She smiled, and walked over to Mrs. Weasley and hugged her.

"Ah, Molly, eet iz wonderful to see you!" She kissed Mrs. Weasley on each cheek, and turned beaming to Harry. "'arry, I 'ave missed you!" She scooped him in an embrace and kissed him as well. Ron sat expectantly, but she moved on to Ginny. "Ginny, you are looking well." She smiled, and Ginny made only the smallest effort at smiling back. There was another rush of flames, and Gabrielle, Fleur's little sister emerged. She had grown like a shoot in the three years since Harry had seen her last, and she ran immediately to hug him.

"Hullo, Gabrielle," he said, embarrassed.

"Bonjour, 'arry!" she said, beaming.

"Gabrielle 'as been very excited to see you, 'arry. Eet is all she 'as talked about for weeks."

"But dear, where are your parents? They _are_ coming, aren't they?"

"Yes, " said Fleur. "Maman was quite taken with a brooch she saw in Diagon Alley. She and Papa stopped to buy eet. They will be along shortly." And, true enough, in a moment there was another burst of green flame. Mrs. Delacour clearly had more Veela blood running through her veins than Fleur did. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he goggled at her. He was suddenly struck with the idea that she might like to see how well he could fly. This was such a fabulous idea that he was halfway though getting up to go get his room when he saw that Ron was staring at her the same way he was. A terrible desire to punch Ron in his nose came over him, and he had nearly drawn back his fist when Fleur spoke again. "Maman, you are doing eet again. Look at them!" She pointed to Harry and Ron.

"Oh, I am very sorree, " she said in a thickly accented voice, and suddenly Harry no longer felt as enthralled by her. Harry looked back just in time to see Hermione and Ginny rolling their eyes at he and Ron. Mrs. Delacour rushed to hug Mrs. Weasley when a final burst of flame filled the fireplace. Mr. Delacour was as unlike his wife and daughters as Harry though possible. Heavyset, with iron grey hair and a round, red face, he radiated geniality and cheer.

"I 'ope my lateness 'as not appeared rude," he said, smiling. He strode over to join his wife in hugging Mrs. Weasley.

"Not at all, not at all," she said, smiling. "Please, sit. Are you hungry?"

"No, we ate at the Leaky Cauldron," said Mr. Delacour. "Eet was very good. Although I daresay eet could not 'old a candle to your cookeeng." Mr. Delacour smiled devilishly, and Mrs. Weasly blushed and giggled.

"May I introduce my parents, Apolline and Jean-Prieste Delacour," said Fleur in a formal tone of voice. Jean-Prieste shook hands with Ron, and turned to Harry.

"Ah, but you must be 'arry Potter. We 'ave 'eard very much about you from Gabrielle." Gabrielle smiled brightly and fluttered her eyelashes at Harry. Ginny looked put out, then caught Harry's eye, and winked.

After they conversed over tea, Mr. Delacour asked for a tour of the house. He seemed fascinated by the homey, slightly cramped style of the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley showed him about with a trace of embarrassment, but he waved it away.

"Eet is wonderful, Molly. Such warmth and comfort, eet is the most wonderful 'house I 'ave ever been een." Ron muttered that he wouldn't think that if he had to sleep under a ghoul's chambers, but not quite quietly enough. "Ah, but you 'ave a ghoul! You see, Molly? Your 'ome is so beautiful that even ghouls are proud to leeve here!"

Harry was not sure what he had expected Fleur's father to be like, but it was certainly not this vibrant, genial wellspring of energy. He had always though that Fleur's parents would be stuffy and formal, but he was pleasantly surprised to find that they were warm, friendly people. He quite liked them, actually.

"Now, then, I apologize, Mr. And Mrs. Delacour, but it will be awfully cramped. We simply don't-"

"Never you worry, Molly. We have made other arrangements. Come, I weel show you." Mr. Delacour bounced down the stairs, and led them to the front lawn. He pulled a small pouch out of his pocket, placed it on the ground, and produced his wand. "Stand back. Eet will grow quite large. Engorgio!" The pouch swelled to enormity, and, with a popping noise, sprang into a large lavender tent. It really looked more like a summer cottage, thought Harry, excepting the color and the fact that it was made of canvas. "We 'ave used eet on many 'iking trips across France. We weell be very comfortable, and you weel not 'ave to put yourselves out. My only regret is that I weel not be able to meet your ghoul," he said, with a roguish smile.

Mrs. Weasley outdid herself with dinner that evening. She produced a roast that surpassed even that served at Hogwarts, and Harry, Ron, Arthur and Mr. Delacour ate hugely. Jean-Prieste closed his eyes blissfully with every bite, and Harry was astonished to see him reaching for sixth helpings. They talked of many things, and it turned out that Mr. Delacour was as much, if not more so, of a fan of Quidditch as Harry was. "Eet is a shame, I theenk. France 'as very leetle chance to reach the World Cup. They lost even to America, disgraceful." He and Harry discussed flying. Mr. Delacour had played beater when he was at Beauxbaton, and he was quite interested to see Harry fly. "I seemply must see you in action, 'arry. I am told you are the rival of even Victor Krum!" Harry tried to be modest, but could not make it through with a straight face. He and Jean-Prieste laughed, and Mr. Delacour winked at him.

Bill and Charley, Bill's best man, were arriving early the next morning. Fleur was positively vibrating with excitement. " 'e 'as been away for so long. I 'ave not seen 'im in ages. I sometimes 'ate those gobleens."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sat together on the couch. The exchanged frequent looks, but none of them seemed brave enough to say the first word. Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands absent-absentmindedly, and he and Ginny smirked half-heartedly at each other. It was Harry who finally spoke up, nearly an hour after they had all sat down.

"What does this mean, Hermione?"

"I have no idea, Harry. I've never heard of anything like this. I even read through all of my books about dreams and magical connections, and I couldn't find anything."

"I don't want Voldemort breaking into your minds. Maybe I should le-"

"Honestly, mate, are we going to have to chain ourselves to you? You're not going anywhere without us, and that's final." Hermione nodded, and Harry couldn't help but grin.

"How come they get to go with you, and I don't?" Ginny asked in irritation. Harry started to stammer something about loved ones, but Ginny piped up again. "And how do _they_ not qualify as loved ones?" Harry was spared, mercifully, by the sound of two loud cracks outside the door. Fleur squealed, and rushed to the door. It opened, and she flung herself into Charley's arms.

"Whoops," he said, grinning broadly. "I think Fleur's changed her mind, Bill. Can't blame her, of course. It's my curse, this magnetism." Bill and Fleur each punched him on opposite arms, and he laughed. "I've changed my mind. You can have her back, Bill. I don't think I could take the abuse." He stepped aside, and Fleur kissed Bill fiercely.

"Fleur, dear, at least let me close the door," he said, his voice heavy with embarrassment. Fleur kissed him several more times before he squeezed his way in. "Hullo Ron, Ginny. You too, Hermione and Harry." Harry waved at Bill, who thankfully looked much less like Mad-Eye Moody now that the scars had faded slightly. He was grinning broadly as he sat down in a large armchair. Fleur parked herself on the arm of it, and flung her arms around him.

"I 'ave missed you very much," she said, and kissed him again. Charley sat down next to Harry.

"Still going to be team captain this year, Harry? I'd love to see Gryffindor win the cup two years running." Harry sidestepped the issue neatly by saying that he love the very same thing.

The rest of the day was filled with yet more preparations for the wedding. There was very little chance to talk about the shared dreams, much to Harry's distaste. He knew it had to be very important, especially if Hermione had never read about anything like it.

They went to bed very early, because the wedding was scheduled for the morning. Harry lay awake for a very long time, and attempted to clear his mind of all thoughts and feelings, but it was impossible. What in the world could it all mean? He rubbed his scar absentmindedly, although it no longer hurt. If only Dumbledore was here, he could explain everything.

Harry could hear Ron's heavy breathing from across the room. He wondered if the others were sleeping as peacefully. He supposed that as long as he was still awake, the dreams wouldn't affect them. Harry sat up in his bed, and leaned against the wall. He resolved not to sleep. He would never sleep again, if that was what was necessary to protect his friends. He yawned, stretched, and began to think about the Horcruxes again.

_The locket, the cup, the snake, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. The locket, the cup, the snake..._Harry closed his eyes in concentration. It was very warm in Ron's room, and he was still quite tired from the previous night. He shifted, and yawned again. _...something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's._ Images swirled in his mind, each of the Horcruxes. The Sorting Hat shifted into the Sword shifted into something that Harry couldn't quite make out. As he concentrated on it, he fell quite suddenly into a deep sleep.


	4. Chapter 4 A Little More Love

Chapter 4 – A Little More Love

"Oi, wake up!" Ron's voice came to Harry as though from a great distance, and he was vaguely aware of being shaken. He opened his eyes slowly, and saw the alarm etched on Ron's freckled face. Harry sat bolt upright, and scrambled for his glasses.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" Harry asked frantically.

"Mum's just been in. We were supposed to be up ages ago." Harry slackened slightly, and leaned against the headboard.

"What time is it?" Harry rubbed at his eyes, which felt like they were packed in about a pound of sand. He berated himself silently. He hadn't even been able to keep from sleeping for a single night.

"Six in the morning. Mum was in a right state when she came in and saw us still sleeping. We've only got about a half an hour to get dressed and get to the Hill."

"And you didn't dream anything?"

"No. Why, did you?" Ron was looking at him with an expression of worry.

"No, slept like a rock." This was not, strictly speaking, true. He _had _dreamed of the wedding being between he and Ginny, but had decided that this was not the sort of thing Ron would care to hear. Harry yawned widely, stretched, and got up to unpack his dress robes. He used a quick charm to work out most of the wrinkles, bathed, and threw it on.

When he came out of the bathroom, Ron was already dressed. Harry grinned at Ron's new robes; they were much nicer than the old, lace covered ones that he had worn at the Yule ball. Instead, they were solid black and slightly shiny. Most importantly, they fit him exactly, as they were one of his few possessions that were not second-hand.

"No lace, Ron? I'm disappointed," Harry teased. Ron shot him a mutinous look, then laughed.

"Fred and George really went all out on these. Wonder what got into them?" Harry had to bite down on his tongue to hide a knowing grin.

When they climbed down into the kitchen, breakfast had been cleared away. Harry made himself some toast, ate it quickly, and waited for the others. Hermione was next to arrive, dressed in a gown of pale rose, sleeveless and cut much lower than one would expect for Hermione. Ron's eyes nearly bulged right out of their sockets. She beamed at both of them.

"Do you like? My parents bought it for me as an early birthday present."

"Hermione, you look-" Ron croaked. The rest of the sentence seemed to have gotten stuck in his throat, which caused her to smile even wider.

It was Harry's turn to goggle when Ginny walked down. Dressed in gold, she was displaying a great deal of freckled skin. She was blushing heavily and giggled nervously at Harry's expression. Ron caught the look, and glared slightly at Harry and Ginny.

"Ginny, don't you think that's a little...immodest?" She shot Ron a very rude hand gesture in response. She winked at Harry as he stormed off, muttering under his breath.

Mr. And Mrs. Weasley came down next, no longer in their usual shabby robes, but in rich looking blue velvet. Harry supposed that Fred and George had bought them new dress clothing as well. Bill and Charley were also dressed to match, in tight black leather. Combined with his scars, this clothing only made Bill look even cooler than he usually did. He tossed his ponytail nervously, and he looked slightly green.

"Well, then. I suppose we should head off," he said in a rush. Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys sat off for Stoatshead Hill, which was quite a distance away. Harry couldn't stop himself from stealing glances at Ginny as they walked, despite having broken up with her at the end of last term. How he wished that Dumbledore was still alive, that Voldemort would not torture those closest to him, and that he could have a normal relationship.

The field next to the hill had been carpeted in white chairs, and a number of equally white pavilions. A small, raised stage, rather like the one Harry had taken his Apparition test on was at the far end, and a very frail, wizened wizard stood behind a jet black podium. Many guests were already there. Fleur's entire family was sitting on one side, and Harry thought he recognized several of the girls from Beaxbatons that accompanied Fleur and Madame Maxime to the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Hagrid was sitting in the very back, in a large chair that had obviously been constructed especially for him. Mad-Eye Moody also sat in the back, and was conversing with Remus Lupin. Lupin's dress robes were marginally less shabby than his usual clothing, but they were still quite threadbare. Moody had made little concession to formal dress except to make sure that his fake leg was well polished and gleaming. Hagrid shifted slightly, and the chair creaked alarmingly, even though it had been specially made for him.

Nymphadora Tonks was talking with the Delacours, and amusing them by switching from her usual appearance to an old woman to a very young girl. She was wearing lavender, and had changed her hair to a long plait of rich purple. Now that Harry looked around, there seemed to be rather a lot of Order members present. Kingsley Shacklebolt was talking to Dedalus Diggle and Emmeline Vance over by one of the tents, and Dedalus gave him a hearty wave.

Most surprising was a small cadre of goblins sitting grouped together at the far side of seats. Harry knew that Bill worked for Gringotts, which was run by goblins, but he hadn't expected them to be at the wedding. No one seemed to want to sit next to them, and Harry wasn't sure that they could blame them. Goblins were known to be very fierce, and not given to be overly friendly with wizards. Conspicuous in his absence was Percy. Harry had known that he and his family had not gotten along well the past few years, but he had never imagined that the rift was such that Percy wouldn't even show up at his own brother's wedding. Harry was not the only one who noticed him missing. Ron was muttering about a "stupid git" with such venom that he could only be talking about his older brother.

Fred and George had walked up and began poking fun and Bill, and Harry went to sit down. Ron and Hermione sat down on his right side, and Ginny sat directly on his left. It would be very hard, Harry thought, to concentrate on the ceremony with her so close to him.

"There's Auntie Muriel," Ron said, pointing to a hunched-over old woman. "Hope she doesn't sit over by us, always complaining about things."

"Won't the Muggles be able to see everything? Hagrid and the goblins are bound to cause an uproar," asked Hermione.

"We've put charms over the entire area to make it invisible to Muggles. Like the protections at Hogwarts," said Mr. Weasley, who had just arrived and sat behind them. After a few moments, Jean-Prieste Delacour walked over to a tent at the back of the seats, The crowd gradually quieted down, and just then, an invisible orchestra struck up a wedding march.

Fleur emerged from the tent, her father beside her. She was absolutely radiant. Her silvery hair cascaded in waves down her shoulder, and a very old and beautiful tiara crowned her. She was wearing a very simple white dressed. Harry supposed that anything more complicated would simply be drowned out by her beauty. She had a dazzling smile on her face, and the faintest hint of a rosy red blush across her cheeks. Even Mr. Weasley, who had been so amused by Harry and Ron's reactions to the Veela at the World Cup, seemed awed by her.

She walked very slowly up to the stage, and allowed the crowd to drink in her beauty. Finally, she stood smiling brightly by Bill, who gulped and smiled nervously back. The small wizard behind the podium, who must have been some sort of Ministry official, began the ceremony.

It was very short, and although Harry had never been to a wedding ceremony, thought that it was rather pretty. Bill and Fleur kissed each other passionately at the end of it, and the crowd erupted into cheers. Fred and George whistled loudly, and the entire crowd laughed, including Bill and Fleur. After they walked down the aisle, the crowd stood at one to congratulate them.

The chairs moved of their own accord, and grouped themselves around large white tables, which had just appeared. The pavilions opened up, and large tables full of punch, champagne and wedding cake were revealed. A wide floor was left, and Bill and Fleur danced with each other as the invisible orchestra played on. After they had finished the first dance, others moved in to join them. Fred and George were each dancing wildly with a couple of the Beauxbatons girls. Harry walked over to Bill and Fleur, now that the crowd that had surrounded them were busy with dancing.

"Congratulations," he said, thickly. He wasn't sure why, as he was not particularly close to either Bill or Fleur, though he liked them, but he found himself to be experiencing wave after wave of emotion. Fleur smiled warmly at him. He moved over to a tent to get some punch, and he jumped slightly as he felt a light touch at his elbow. It was Ginny, and she looked suddenly very shy, as though it were Harry's first time at the Burrow again.

"Harry..." she began falteringly. "Will...will you dance with me?"

"Ginny, I've told you, I don't-"

"I know what you said, and that's...I understand." She gave him a watery smile. "But I was hoping that...well, since today _is_ a special occasion that we could...could forget we ever had that conversation. Just for today." She looked at him with such longing that he couldn't help but relent. Unable to find words, he simply nodded and smiled at her. She grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

She was much less forceful than Parvati had been, and he found himself enjoying the dance much more. Ginny was very close, and Harry's nose was full of the flowery scent of her hair. It was just like she had said...the horrible conversation that they'd had at the lake seemed a thousand lifetimes ago, so long ago that it mightn't have happened at all. They danced with each other for a very long time, one of the few couples that did not stop every now and then for a break. Ron and Hermione seemed to be the only other two that had stayed on the floor as long as they had.

As they danced, Harry noticed that small groups of Order members engaged each other often in conversation. While they talked, the expressions on their faces shifted from happiness to solemn and sober. Harry gradually began to suspect that they were _not_ here simply for the wedding.

The group of goblins moved as a group over to Bill. Although they were not smiling (Harry was not even sure that goblins _could _smile), they seemed excited and pleased at the wedding. Bill was talking animatedly to them, no doubt regaling them with tales of his most recent treasure-gathering adventures.

Mr. And Mrs Weasley were dancing as well, and Molly looked much more girlish than Harry had ever seen her. Mr. Weasley was quite a good dancer, it seemed, and the pair of them moved in graceful circles all around the dance floor. Harry smiled to himself as Mrs. Weasley was quite suddenly dipped by her husband. She blushed and giggled although she was still a schoolgirl, and indeed, at that moment looked like she could have still been attending Hogwarts. It was a very welcome change from the expression of strain and worry that dominated her features ever since Voldemort came back.

As the celebration wound to a close, the music softened and then stopped. Ginny pulled back slightly from him, and looked up at him with an expression of bliss.

"Thank you, Harry. That was...was wonderful." She kissed him then, a long, lingering kiss that made his breath catch in his throat. Then, without another word, Ginny turned and walked away. Harry looked after her, stunned into immobility. Ron and Hermione walked up to him, hand in hand. Hermione smiled at him, although Ron still looked a little guarded. Seeking to change the subject before Hermione had a chance to talk about, Harry stared down at their hands.

"I wondered when you two would accept it," he said, and grinned at them. Hermione blushed and smiled wider, but Ron looked confused.

"What d'ya mean, accept it?"

"Oh, come off it, Ron. I've known you liked Hermione since the Yule Ball."

"And Harry's just about as dense about this subject as a human being can be," said Hermione, winking at Harry. Ron looked shocked, then angry, then finally grinned.

"Well, as long as I'm smarter about it than Harry is," he said in a teasing voice.

"I said 'just about as dense', Ron," replied Hermione. She giggled, then kissed Ron on the cheek. "Come on, we're heading back to the Burrow."

But it turned out that they were not heading back as they had started. Tonks, Lupin, Hagrid...all of the Order members were coming with them, with Moody clumping along behind them and muttering darkly about his leg. Hagrid was carrying a large wooden crate, but was walking with such long strides that Harry couldn't catch up with him to ask what it was. Ginny caught up with him, and slipped her hand into his, so that they matched Ron and Hermione.

"The day isn't over yet," she said when he turned with a puzzled expression on his face. He slowed down slightly, to prolong their walk. The air was cool and fragrant, and there was a small breeze that felt wonderful on his face. It also blew the flowery fragrance from Ginny's hair into his face, and it drove away all thought. They walked together, he and Ginny and Ron and Hermione, all the way back to the Burrow.

As he made to walk in through the front door, Ginny tugged on his arm and motioned with her head toward a cluster of bushes. Harry followed her warily. He stumbled a bit; his knees seemed to have gone missing.

"Will you sit with me a while?" Ginny said after a moment. Harry swallowed, and nodded. They both sat down on the grass, and Ginny rested her head on his shoulder. The sun moved higher and higher overhead, warming the grass and making Harry slightly drowsy.

They sat there, Harry and Ginny, for nearly twenty minutes. Neither of them spoke. Finally, Ginny turned her head slightly, and whispered to him.

"Thank you, Harry." She kissed him again, clung to him fiercely for a moment, and then walked quickly back into her home. Harry remained on the grass for a long time, looking up at the clouds and murmuring to himself about what they looked like. Finally, he heaved a great sigh, and walked inside as well.

The living room was filled with members of the Order, and they seemed to be in a very deep and important conversation. All speech died away as he entered, and a ringing silence spread over the room. It was clear from the expressions of shock on their faces that they'd thought he had come in with Ron and Hermione.

"Harry, dear, go up to Ron's-" Mrs. Weasley began, but was cut off by Lupin.

"No, Molly. I think Harry should stay." Harry's heart leaped. Was he finally going to be allowed to join the Order of the Phoenix? Mrs. Weasley looked outraged, and she sprang to her feet.

"But he's only a boy! He shouldn't...we shouldn't..."

"Molly, he's of age now. He's fought Voldemort himself as much, if not out and out more, than any of us, and he has escaped each time. It will be better by far, I think, for us to share our information with him. At least then, " Lupin said with the trace of a smile, "he will be fully informed for whatever dangerous feat he is planning next."

"Well..." Molly's face was lined with worry. "I suppose-" She sat back down, her hands twisting in her lap.

"Ron and Hermione, too, I think." Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to object, but Lupin waved the unspoken outburst away with more force than Harry had ever seen. "Go and get them, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry raced upstairs. Ron and Hermione were both sitting on Ron's bed, although they had left the door open, no doubt to ease any of Mrs. Weasley's worries. They were talking excitedly about the wedding.

"Harry, what's up?" Ron asked, getting to his feet. Harry could tell that Ron was worried that there had been another attack, or that his family was in danger. Harry wasted no time in vanishing Ron's fears.

"Come down with me. It's the Order, they...they want us to sit in on their meeting!" Excitement surged through Harry. Finally, they recognized that he was going to fight Voldemort no matter what. Finally, they were going to permit him to discuss the war with them, instead of clamming up whenever he came across them talking.

Ron and Hermione both stood up quickly, and the three of them practically ran down the stairs and into the living room. They drew up chairs, and quickly sat down next to each other. There was another long silence, as all the members of the Order looked at the three newcomers and each other. Finally, Mad-eye Moody spoke in his usual low growl.

"Well, then. Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix."


End file.
